


All The Scars We Left

by Andian



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Battle Buddies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andian/pseuds/Andian
Summary: They had gotten many scars over the years, it was part of the job. Some of them however were more personal than others.(Or: Five times Jeremy and Ryan accidentally left scars on each other.)
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 20
Kudos: 168





	All The Scars We Left

The first time Jeremy met Agent Haywood, he didn't think much of him. He had been partnered before with guys like him. Good with knives and guns but not much else.  
  
Sure this one had a reputation for enjoying the things he could do with a knife just a little too much. But in their line of work, that wasn't a rarity either.

So he just briefly nodded at the man and then turned back to his supervisor and the mission brief.

It was an easy one. Small militia group in Missouri, suspected of hording some weapons in their compound. They'd get in, get a confirmation of the weapons and then somebody else would take over actually getting the guns out. It was a waste of his skills, to be honest, and Jeremy had the faint feeling that there was something else going on here that they hadn’t been told about.

He thought about sharing this thought with Haywood but the other man hadn’t said a single word during the five hour drive to the militia compound. It had suited Jeremy fine but now with both of them gearing up for the infiltration ahead, he was starting to become a bit irritated by the silence.  
  
It was a game though, he figured, as they got their equipment ready. Which one of them was better at playing the big scary silent guy.

When he looked over though and saw what Haywood had brought for the mission, he couldn't keep quiet.

“Really? You are going to take that along?”

Haywood turned towards him, actually acknowledging him for the first time in the six hours they had known each other.

“Stay out of my way,” he said instead of an answer. And then, without taking his eyes off Jeremy, he pushed the giant combat knife into one of his pockets.  
  
Jeremy blinked.  
  
“Sure,” he said easily. “If you stay out of my way.”  
  
Haywood's movements stilled for a brief moment at this but he didn't say anything. Just pulled out another knife that didn't look like it should fit in his pockets either but somehow still did.  
  
Jeremy just hoped he wasn't planning on actually using them.  
  
They managed to get into the compound relatively easy. The militia didn't have enough manpower for thorough patrols and the two men on guard had hidden underneath a tree from the rain, chatting while smoking.  
  
The inside of the compound looked depressingly similar to every other one Jeremy had seen in his life. Militia types never seemed to have much imagination, Jeremy thought as they sneaked between the cabins.

The mission file had come with pictures, grainy since the drone couldn't get any closer but still showing a single metal shed between the array of various wooden cabins.  
  
If there were even slightly smart, that's where they'd keep the weapons, Jeremy had thought. Haywood seemed to agree with him on this, making his way straight towards the shed.

Once they had reached it, Jeremy took a look at the lock. Plastic. He might had to reconsider his stance on the intelligence of this particular militia. They really were feeling too save out here.

“Gimme a sec,” he whispered at Haywood, reaching for his equipment. He wasn't an expert lock picker by any means, but he had a past and in that past he had taken a crack at a lot more complex locks.  
  
He then got almost hit by the handle of the knife coming down and only barely managed to swallow down the surprised yelp.  
  
Jeremy stared at the broken padlock and then Haywood, who was still holding the knife.  
  
“Really?” he hissed. “You couldn't wait those twenty seconds for me to get the lock?!”  
  
Haywood threw him a look that Jeremy couldn't and didn't quite want to decipher.

“Stay out of my way,” Haywood just said and then opened the door to the shed.  
  
Jeremy stared after him. The man had been irritating before but now he was turning into an absolute pain in the ass.

Grumbling silently to himself, he followed Haywood inside. Haywood seemed to at least have enough brain to not turn the lights on, using the lowest setting of his flashlight instead.  
  
Jeremy followed suit.  
  
“Well, fuck,” he said as his flashlight illuminated his surroundings. There were weapons. A whole bunch of them. Way more than the mission file had assumed.  
  
Enough guns for the apocalypse but still a plastic lock, he thought grimly. Fucking militias.  
  
He turned towards Haywood.

“Let's get the pictures and then get-” He stopped himself when he saw what Haywood was looking at.

“Fuck,” he said again. The mission brief had been all about the guns. They hadn't mentioned any rocket launchers.  
  
Of which there were a truly worrying amount. One of which Haywood was now picking up.

“Don't!” Jeremy hissed.  
  
Another truly unimpressed look but at least Haywood put the damn rocket launcher down.  
  
“Let's just call reinforcements in,” Jeremy mumbled. They'd have a damn good case here.  
  
He pulled his satellite phone out, making his way closer to the door to see what he was typing.

Then he felt something cold behind him.

The feeling of a gun pressed against his back had become rather too familiar over the years and if Jeremy would allow himself to think about this, it probably would say something about his life he wasn't prepared to hear.

So he didn't think at all and just acted on instinct. Swirling around, he grabbed the hand holding the gun, forcing the barrel towards the ceiling. His other hand came up to punch the man's throat.

It was the same time as Haywood threw the knife. It buried itself into the throat of the man who just stared at Jeremy without comprehension before crumbling down.

The gun dropped from his hand and Jeremy picked it up before quickly checking to see if the man had been alone.

Once he was sure there was nobody else, he finally allowed himself to look at his hand. It was bleeding, his palm nicked by Haywoods' little knife trick. Jeremy made a fist, hoping to make the bleeding stop with the pressure.

The blood trickled down to his wrist and he threw an annoyed look at Haywood who was currently getting his knife back from the man’s throat.

“I could have handled this,” he snapped.

Haywood looked up. His cold eyes rested briefly on his bleeding hand before wandering up to Jeremy's face.

Jeremy stared back. Haywood looked away first.  
  
“I told you to stay out of my way,” he said and stood up.  
  
“Call in reinforcements,” he said over his shoulder as he left the shed. Jeremy stared after him, hot anger burning in his stomach.

Psycho, he thought. He angrily typed the code to alert the people on stand-by into his phone.  
  
His hand was drumming with pain, the rush of adrenaline wearing off and his body making itself heard.

Complete psycho.  
  
Good thing, Jeremy thought, this would be the last he'd see of Haywood.

It wasn't.

Only a few weeks later, there was the next mission. Jeremy had gotten some time off though the cut on his hand hadn't been as bad as thought. It had still hurt like hell though and had left Jeremy with a scar running along his palm.  
  
That asshole Haywood hadn't apologized once.  
  
He was back now though at last. His body was aching for some action and he had been bored out of his mind the last weeks, video games and take-out not enough to take his mind off wishing for something more fun.  
  
He regretted his excitement when he opened the door to his supervisor's office and saw Haywood in front of the desk.  
  
Only due to years of learning to never show any feelings, he managed to keep his expression blank.

Without looking at Haywood, he sat down.

“We tracked down the people who got the militia the rocket launchers,” Miller, his supervisor, said without any further introductions. She was always like that, not a single word wasted. Jeremy had known her for ten years and wasn’t sure she ever had so much as said hello to him.

“It’s a German arms dealer, currently back in Berlin. We looked for him quite a bit after he wasn’t at the militia’s compound,” Miller continued.

Well, Jeremy thought, that answered the question of why exactly they had been at the compound in the first place. He used to be angry about this in the past.  
  
Being sent in without all the information, being told only the bare minimum with vital parts being left out, least that intel somehow found itself back to the person it was about.

But that was the business. You trusted nobody and nobody trusted you. He had gotten used to it and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been approached about similar matters in the past before. He had declined.

So far the Agency had always paid better.  
  
“Get in and get out. We are hoping his death will startle some other people.”  
  
She didn’t need to say what this meant. Jeremy had done a few missions designed to unsettle somebody else. They tended to be bloody, even more than usual.  
  
“All the important stuff is in the file,” Miller said.

Jeremy nodded and reached for it, only for Haywood to beat him to it. He stared a Jeremy for a moment, that particular expression on his face Jeremy still couldn’t quite read but that really made him want to punch the man in the face.

“He’s coming along?” Haywood then said, turning to Miller.

Jeremy bristled, angrily opening his mouth.

“He is,” Miller calmly said. “Your abilities will both be useful for this kind of mission.”

Haywood’s lips curled slightly but there was no room for an argument in her voice. He stood up without another look at Jeremy. Still boiling with suppressed anger Jeremy followed him.

The moment the door closed behind them he turned to Haywood.

“I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care,” he hissed. “But if I have to work with you, stop acting like a complete asshole.”

“Just stay out of-” Haywood began.

“Out of your way?” Jeremy interrupted him, taking a step closer to Haywood. “Or what, you going to throw another knife at me?”  
  
They were standing too close, their bodies almost touching and Jeremy was vibrating with anger. Haywood’s hand clenched into a fist and for a moment Jeremy thought he would punch him. Lord knew, Jeremy really wanted to punch him.

But then with a level of effort that Jeremy could almost feel Haywood unclenched his fist and nodded stiffly.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Haywood said through gritted teeth. The unsaid “Without killing each other” was noted.

Jeremy forced himself to take a step back, away from Haywood. The tension didn’t vanish completely but at least it didn’t feel any more like things were about to explode any second.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “Let’s just get this over with.” And without another look at Haywood, he walked away.

They only talked about the bare necessities on the way to Berlin and even then it was mostly one-word sentences and curt nods.

The Agency had booked them rooms in the same hotel as their target. One advantage of missions where they wanted people to know that they’d been there.

Haywood had checked in a few hours before him and when Jeremy opened the door to his own room, he was already waiting in Jeremy’s room, getting his equipment ready. He had brought that collection of stupidly long knives along with him, Jeremy noticed with an eye roll.  
  
Jeremy closed the door behind him and got his own weapons out of his bag. They silently prepared and then just sat around the hotel room for the next few hours, not meeting each other’s eyes.

It was incredibly boring and Jeremy was glad when the clock finally had moved to 2am. The camera Haywood had smuggled inside their target’s room hadn’t shown any movements from the bed for the last few hours but it always paid to be careful about these kind of things.  
  
Jeremy stood up and reached for his gun. He threw one look at Haywood who followed suit, grabbing his own weapons.  
  
Quietly they walked outside, down the stairs and to their target’s room. Jeremy had stolen a keycard from a staff member which he now took out of his pocket, along with his gun.  
  
Haywood threw one last look down the empty hallway before he nodded. Carefully Jeremy inserted the keycard, before pushing the door open even more carefully.

Haywood closed the door behind them. Jeremy’s grabbed his gun tighter. They hadn’t talked about this but he figured a headshot would do the trick.

Quick, effective and sending a message that couldn’t be ignored.

Unless Haywood decided he wanted to get fancy with his knives. Haywood, who was currently silently but quickly making his way towards the bed.  
  
There were shapes underneath the blankets, their target seemingly sleeping save and soundly. Haywood pulled out his knife and Jeremy would have cursed loudly if he could.

Something about this entire situation felt off. Jeremy just couldn’t figure out why.

Haywood meanwhile was bringing his knife closer to the throat of this misshapen figure of a body lying underneath the blankets.  
  
Alarm bells went off in Jeremy’s head.

“Wait-“ he began but Haywood brought down the knife, not bothering to listen to Jeremy’s objection.

Then all hell broke loose.  
  
A bullet flew through the room, almost hitting him.

He spun around, trying to figure out where the hell the shot had come from.

Next to him Haywood cursed loudly and pulled out his own gun, shooting somewhere. The shots were returned and without thinking Jeremy dropped to the floor, pulling Haywood down with him and out of the line of fire.

More bullets came flying and Haywood quickly crawled away, taking cover behind the dresser before he returned the fire.

Jeremy wasn’t sure he even knew what or who he was shooting. Wildly he looked around the room before finally finding what he was looking for. 

He scrambled for the light switch and the room was flooded with light.

Jeremy let out a loud curse when he saw who exactly was lying in the bed. Or rather what.

Either their target had been warned beforehand about them or he traveled with a life sized mannequin.

In the now bright room Jeremy could see their actually target, standing in the bathroom door.

The problem was that he could now also see them. He took aim at Jeremy who without thinking raised his own gun and shot.

Maybe it was skill, maybe it was luck but Jeremy was quicker. The bullet hit the man in the shoulder and he cursed loudly in German, staggering back but not letting go of his gun.

It didn’t matter, Haywood was also raising his gun, calmly pointing it at the guy’s head.

The man must have noticed too because with a loud scream and a strength that surprised Jeremy, he jumped forward towards Jeremy.

Jeremy tried to shoot but the man’s body collided with him before he could. There was an angry snarl coming from the man as he raised his gun, hitting Jeremy in the face with it.

Jeremy returned the favor, burrowing his elbow in the man’s stomach. The gun dropped out of the man’s hand but it didn’t stop him from fighting and Jeremy had to take a step back to doge the punch coming towards his chin.

His back connected with the window, his own gun falling out of his hand. Before he could react the man was upon him, yelling loudly as he punched Jeremy in the face.

What the fuck was Haywood doing, Jeremy thought as he tried to push the man away from him. He really hoped Haywood wasn’t trying to shot the guy, not with Jeremy so close.

Then he saw the knife coming down from behind him, his answer to what the fuck exactly Haywood was doing.  
  
Problem was the guy had seen it too. He kicked out backwards, hitting Haywood right between the legs.

Haywood let out a startled yelp of pain. Jeremy would have enjoyed it a bit more if it hadn’t cause Haywood to drop the knife.

He should have paid more attention to the man though because a fist connected with his stomach and Jeremy gasped for air, struggling to breathe.

The man let go of him suddenly. Jeremy’s confusion at this quickly disappeared though when saw the guy picking up the knife Haywood had dropped.  
  
And then thrusting it towards Jeremy.

His survival instincts kicked in and he managed to doge the knife, moving away.  
  
Where was his fucking gun, Jeremy thought, almost panicking now. The man was still stabbing at him, clumsily and with somewhat shaking hands probably due to his shoulder injury, allowing Jeremy to continue their little dance of not getting gutted with a combat knife.

Fuck, Jeremy thought, at this point he almost wanted Haywood to shoot the guy even if it might hit him too.

He wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could avoid getting stabbed.

Suddenly he met Haywood’s eyes. Haywood’s gaze wandered higher, above the two to the full length windows. For a moment Jeremy had no clue why he was looking there before he realized.

He managed a brief nod towards Haywood and saw the man smile as an answer before he raised his gun and shot.

The window splintered, showering Jeremy and the man in shards of glass. One of them hit Jeremy’s shoulder, cutting deep.

He ignored it. The glass breaking had distracted the man, enough for his attempts to stab Jeremy to halt briefly.

It was long enough for Jeremy.

With all his strength, and he had a lot of that, he pushed the man through the broken window.

There was a look of complete incomprehension on the man’s face as he fell.  
  
There were high, maybe high enough for the man to truly understand what was happening before he landed on the concrete below.  
  
Jeremy wouldn’t know. All he saw was the broken body surrounded by blood and shards of glass.  
  
He let out a deep breath. There was something wet on his shoulder where the glass had cut him.

“We need to leave,” Haywood said behind him.

Jeremy nodded, quickly reaching for the knife and his gun. The cops were probably already on their way.

There were a few people in the hallway, one of them letting out a loud scream when she saw them. Or probably when she saw the guns in their hands.

They ignored them, made their way to the stairs and down to the back exit, already open thanks to Jeremy’s earlier preparations.

Behind them Jeremy could hear police sirens growing louder. 

“That way,” Haywood said and Jeremy followed him. There was an escape car parked somewhere. Haywood had taken care of that part and Jeremy was suddenly glad about it.

Something was trusted into his hand and surprised he looked up. Haywood had taken off his leather jacket.

“You’re bleeding,” he said and yes, Jeremy was both bleeding and not quite getting Haywood’s point.  
  
“Put it on before even more people notice,” Haywood said.

Oh, Jeremy thought. Maybe it hadn’t just been the guns that had made the woman scream back at the hotel.

Quickly he put the jacket on. It was too big, Haywood being more than a few inches taller than him.

Then the sirens grew louder again and they both quickened their steps.

They somehow managed to make it to the escape car without actually seeing the police cars the sirens belonged to.

Haywood got into the driver seat without asking and Jeremy didn’t bother arguing. They drove as quickly as they could without being noticed, leaving the hotel and the scene of their crimes behind. They passed a few police cars on their way, thankfully none of them paying any attention to them. Jeremy really wasn’t in the mood for a shootout with the cops.

He allowed himself another deep breath after they had left Berlin behind, sinking deeper into the car seat.

“Not bad,” Haywood suddenly said.  
  
Jeremy looked up surprised. Haywood was focused on the road, not looking at him.

“Your fighting,” he added. “It’s not bad, Dooley”

Huh, Jeremy thought. Was there a crack becoming visible underneath the mask of pure dickishness?

“You’re not too bad yourself either, Haywood,” Jeremy answered. He wasn’t even lying. That thing with the window had been a stroke of genius.

Haywood nodded curtly and then concentrated on the road again. Jeremy closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax a bit.

They didn’t talk much either for the rest of the journey but it felt different than before. Less tense.

Jeremy took off Haywood’s leather jacket at one point, handing it back to the other man.

“Thanks,” he said. Surprise flickered briefly on the man’s face before it returned to its usual mask.

“No problem,” he said, turning away from Jeremy.

They made it back to the Agency and Jeremy was rushed off to see a doctor for his shoulder. He got stitched up and after a few painkillers he was allowed to leave.

He went straight home, crashed on his bed and slept for fifteen hours straight. It was followed by almost two whole weeks of blissful radio silence from the Agency. He got his stitches out, got told that it would likely leave a scar, and then spent the rest of the week on his couch playing video games.  
  
Then came the call and he almost wasn’t surprised this time when he walked into his supervisor’s office and saw Haywood there. He also wasn’t surprised the next mission. And the one afterwards. And the next one.

The had almost spent half a year now of exclusively running missions with each other and in his head Jeremy had begun to refer to Miller as their supervisor and not just his.

It was okay, Jeremy figured. The last few missions had gone off without a hitch, no more new scars added to the battleground that was Jeremy’s skin.

Haywood was professional, a hell of a good fighter and as long as Jeremy watched him carefully he showed at least some restrain with those knives he was still a bit too fond of.

Still, all good things must come to an end, Jeremy figured. Currently for example they were in Peru on a boat.

Or rather half a boat. It used to be a complete boat at the start of the mission.

He threw Haywood another annoyed look. The man continued to ignore them.

Asshole, Jeremy thought. The boat was filling with water, they were about 20 miles from the next city and Jeremy was not looking forward to hiking in 85 °F and 85% humidity.

“Asshole,” he said out loud because Haywood deserved to hear it.

Haywood stopped his futile attempts of scooping water out of the boat.

“I wanted to see if they were real explosives,” he said. Jeremy would never, not even under the threat of death, admit it but Haywood had that slightly whiny tone in his voice he got whenever he had messed up and Jeremy was calling him out on his bullshit.

Jeremy threw his arms up in a frustrated gesture.

“Haywood, what kind of self-respecting drug cartel would keep fake explosives?”  
  
“I mean that one time in Canada…” Haywood began.

“Canada doesn’t count,” Jeremy interrupted him. “That wasn’t even a real cult!”  
  
Other than that it had been a good mission. They had spent two days hiding out in Montreal and Jeremy had eaten nothing but poutine.

It had also been cold. Colder at least. Fuck, if this boat was going down he’d make Haywood carry their equipment. All of it.

“I mean, the explosives did help,” Haywood began again.

“No, no, Haywood, we talked about this. Blowing up half the building does not count as helping.”  
  
He was getting that particular headache again he got whenever Haywood found something that went boom and Jeremy wasn’t around to stop him from picking him up.

“Which is why I tried to take down the entire building this time.”

There was something in his voice, something Jeremy had heard more often over the last few months of working with the man. It was only now though that things finally clicked.

“You think this is funny!” He pointed an accusing finger at Haywood.

Big and silent “Stay out of my way” Haywood thought this was hilarious. It occurred to Jeremy very suddenly that there might be something else hidden underneath that carefully cultivated mask of knives and sadism.

Haywood’s almost mechanical movements faltered, just for a tiny moment but Jeremy noticed. It was Berlin all over again, Jeremy suddenly becoming extremely attuned to Haywood’s body language.

“I don’t know if this makes what you did to that one guy better or worse,” Jeremy mumbled, going back to his own vain attempts of keeping their boat afloat for at least a few more miles.

“Which one?” Haywood asked which, fair point.

Jeremy was about to give him the exact rundown when he saw it. First he thought it was a big piece of drift wood but then he noticed that it was moving upstream.

And then he saw the scales and the way it was coming straight for Haywood.

It was only a few steps towards Haywood but it felt like a thousand miles. He pushed the other man aside the moment the crocodile reached the boat and opened its mouth.

Wood busted as teeth buried itself in the spot where Haywood had been standing only moments ago.

The crocodile seemed to stare at Jeremy for a long moment and Jeremy stared back, unable to move away. Trying to figure out if Jeremy would make a good replacement snack, probably. He should reach for his gun, Jeremy thought slightly hysterical. He could shoot a crocodile. Could he shoot a crocodile?

But then the crocodile seemed to decide that he wasn’t worth the effort. It turned away from Jeremy and the boat and started swimming upstream, away from them.

Jeremy watched it leaving, his heart still beating rapidly.

“Fuck,” Haywood then said behind him. Jeremy turned around. Haywood was standing up, wincing slightly.

Jeremy hadn’t bothered to check where exactly he had pushed Haywood towards, the only important thing being that it wasn’t the crocodile’s mouth.

He regretted it a bit now. He had pushed Haywood directly into a pile of splintered wood and one had buried itself in the man’s forearm.

Haywood winced as he pulled it out, blood dripping down his arm.

“That’s going to leave a scar,” Jeremy said, not quite sure what else to say.

“Yeah,” Haywood said. “You trying to get even?”

Jeremy couldn’t hold back the laughter at that, a relieved and slightly shaky sound.

“I figured if you get eaten, there’d be nobody to carry the equipment,” he said.

Haywood laughed and Jeremy watched in fascination. The man had smiled before but Jeremy hadn’t actually heard him laugh before today.

“Thanks,” Haywood then said.

“Not a problem, Haywood,” Jeremy said.

There was a brief moment of silence where Haywood just stared at him, his face doing that really complicated thing again.

“Ryan,” he then said. Jeremy blinked confused.

“My name’s Ryan,” he continued.

“Oh,” Jeremy said. His mind was racing. They didn’t do names. Not in their business. Names meant something. Names meant trust.

“I’m Jeremy.”

Names meant you liked somebody enough to risk your life so they don’t get eaten by a crocodile.  
  
Haywood- Ryan threw him a lopsided smile. If Jeremy hadn’t known better, he’d almost say that the man looked slightly abashed.

“Well then, Jeremy,” he said. “Let’s see how much further we can get this broken piece of wood.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jeremy answered. “Let’s do that, Ryan.”  
  
After that things changed. Not completely, nor in a way that could compromise their missions.

But Ryan and Jeremy suddenly started hanging out after missions. They went drinking in Kraków, glass after glass of vodka, cheap and strong. A camel bit Jeremy in Janabiyah and Ryan laughed so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. In Bruges they spend three days on a recon mission, sitting for hours in different small cafés and talking, playing tourists.

They hadn’t been partnered with anybody else in over a year at this point and Jeremy was okay with it. More than okay. Ryan made dumb jokes during stakeouts and he used a truly unhealthy amount of sugar in his coffee. On the other hand, he also knew that Jeremy preferred black tea over coffee and that the more Jeremy tried not to snort at his stupid puns, the harder he’d eventually laugh.  
  
It was a team thing. They were a team. They were good together. The Agency probably noticed too because they got more difficult assignments. More blood and more bullets, more of everything that Jeremy wasn’t always comfortable with but was good at ignoring.

It helped that Ryan was there, ready to shot or stab or just smile. It helped in a way that made even the most difficult mission seem doable and it helped in a way Jeremy didn’t want to think about too closely. Pretending nothing was wrong was easy when you were either trying to kill people or trying to not get killed by people. It was less easy with Ryan on his couch, having fallen asleep in front of the TV after a particular difficult mission.

Shanghai was supposed to an easy one though. They were wearing suits for one, Ryan a fancier one. On account of him being the one who could understand at least a few words of Shanghainese, he had been chosen to play the potential buyer. Jeremy was his bodyguard, silently and stoically standing next to Ryan and watching it all play out. It mostly boiled down to trying not to lose the staring contest with the actual bodyguard standing across from him.  


It was kind of difficult. The casino was loud and flashy and Jeremy had almost reached for his gun twice already when somebody had started yelling behind them. It had turned out to be false alarms but Jeremy was on the edge.

Ryan meanwhile looked right at home. The black suit he was wearing was impeccable, and every time he moved slightly Jeremy could see his muscles, perfectly encapsulated by the expensive fabric.

“We said twenty-five million Yuan,” Ryan repeated now, for probably the sixth time.

The man in front of them, wearing an even more expensive suit, just smirked and lazily waved for another drink.

It was his third and the fact that he was drinking on the job showed Jeremy that he wasn’t a professional.

“And I said that the price has gone up. I have other interested parties.”

It probably wasn’t even a lie. The man had 50 Gigabytes of classified information, stolen directly from the Chinese MSS. Nobody in the Agency had any clue how exactly the man had gotten it in the first place.

So far Jeremy figured that he had just accidentally stumbled across the flash drive one day because the man was an absolute idiot.  
  
“Okay,” Ryan said. Jeremy could feel the annoyance radiating off of him even though his face hadn’t moved an inch. “30 million then.”  
  
The man opened his mouth, probably for another snide comment when his bodyguard suddenly stepped closer and whispered something into his ear.

The man’s face blanched.  
  
“I … uh…,” he said, stumbling to his feet. “I have to go.”

Ryan also got to his feet. Jeremy moved closer.

“I am sure we can come to an agreement…” Ryan started.

“I have to go!” The man interrupted him and tried to push Ryan aside. Ryan grabbed his wrist and Jeremy his gun, as did the man’s bodyguard.

The sound of the casino behind them suddenly seemed to stop. And then something exploded.  
  
There were screams and the man’s face turned even whiter.

He yelled something at his bodyguard, ripped his wrist out of Ryan’s hand and then started running.

Ryan cursed loudly and ran after him. Jeremy allowed himself one look behind him. The room was filled with smoke but as far as Jeremy could tell nobody was obviously injured. It wasn’t like he’d be able to do anything about it anyway but he usually preferred to keep civilians out of harm’s way.  
  
He wasn’t sure though if the people who were now entering the casino had the same qualms.

Four of them, all of them with guns and completely unfazed by the chaos. One of them seemed to have spotted something in the crowd and suddenly all four of them started moving.

Fuck, Jeremy thought, griping his gun and running after them. This was quickly getting out of hand.

The group of men barged into a side room and Jeremy followed them. They room turned out to be a kitchen, filled with pots and pans and three very scared looking people in white uniforms. The other men ignored them, completely focused on Ryan and the man with the flash drive at the other side of the kitchen.

Jeremy threw the kitchen staff a look and then gestured towards the door. They quickly took their leave and Jeremy let out a breath of relief before walking over to the group which was having a really loud argument with way too many drawn guns.

At least nobody was shooting. Yet.

“What’s going on,” he whispered to Ryan who was watching the scene. His gun was hanging loosely in his hand.

“He owes them money. I think,” Ryan whispered back.

Jeremy couldn’t hold back the groan.

“Really,” he hissed. “Really?! Fucking amateur.”  
  
Ryan nodded and then stepped forward. Everybody’s attention was immediately on him. He said something in Shanghainese, putting his hand on the shoulder of the man with the flash drive. One of the man started laughing.

“I don’t think so,” he then said in English.

“Wait, wait they have … they have money,” the man with the file drive said hysterically. With shaking hands he pointed at Ryan.

“Thirty million Yuan!”

The other man’s expressions turned interested.

“Is that so?” he asked and then he said something to the man next to him in Shanghainese.

Ryan sighed, pulled out his gun and shot.

Jeremy had seen it coming and he dove behind a kitchen counter, followed by Ryan.

“Really,” he hissed, shooting over the kitchen counter before quickly ducking again to hide from the answering fire.

“You really had to do that?”

“He told them to kill us all and take the money,” Ryan answered, also shooting over the counter.

“We should go,” he then added.

Jeremy threw him an unimpressed look.

“We have to get the flash drive,” he said, shooting again. A bullet hit the pot next to his head, a loud bang echoing through the kitchen and he quickly ducked again.

Ryan just smiled and showed him something he was holding. It was a flash drive. Jeremy stared at him in amazement.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he said without thinking.

Ryan’s smile widened. It was a nice smile, Jeremy thought. He liked looking at it, even when Ryan was smiling smugly about his own skills.

Then suddenly somebody started screaming and the guy who formerly had the flash drive grabbed a huge pan, trying to hit one of the people shooting on the head with hit.

He wasn’t strong enough to lift it very high. Some liquid spilled out of the pan and on the still lit gas oven.  
  
It immediately burst into flames. The flash drive man let out another loud yell and dropped the pan. More oil spilled on the oven and suddenly the entire kitchen seemed to be on fire.

Well, Jeremy thought, time to go. He got to his feet, Ryan next to him mirroring his movement and quickly ran towards the exit.

Somebody was quicker. The bodyguard of the flash drive man appeared in front of the door, his gun aimed at them. There was a shot echoing through the kitchen and Ryan let out a yelp of pain before crumbling down.

For a moment the world stopped moving. Without thinking Jeremy raised his gun and shot at the bodyguard, once and twice and three times. A cut-off scream and the man collapsed, pulling a bunch of burning kitchen towels down with him. Jeremy didn’t care.

He sank down next to Ryan.  
  
Don’t be dead. The words kept repeating themselves inside his head, over and over again. Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t you _dare_ be dead!  
  
“Asshole got my leg,” Ryan then coughed and Jeremy could have cried with happiness. Instead he helped him up, Ryan wincing in pain and almost falling down again.

Jeremy’s mind was racing. The burning pile of kitchen towels was blocking their escape route but there was no way he’d get Ryan all the way around the kitchen counter, especially not considering that he could still hear shots coming from that direction.

He maneuvered Ryan around so he was staring at him. Ryan looked confused but he went willingly.

Trust, Jeremy thought. He trusts me so much. God, it shot through his head, I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.  
  
He forced it down, looking at Ryan.

“Watch your fall,” he said and then half-lifted and half-pushed Ryan over or rather through the pile of burning towels.

Then he stepped back, took a run-up and jumped over the flames. It was hot, really fucking hot, but even though he wasn’t the tallest he managed to avoid touching the flames.

Ryan it seemed had been less lucky. He was lying on the floor, trying to put out the flames on his pants. He managed, shooting Jeremy a betrayed look which Jeremy ignored.  
  
Jeremy helped him up and together they stumbled out of the kitchen. The chaos in the casino hadn’t died down which was lucky for them. They managed to sneak to the parking lot where Jeremy broke the window of the first car he saw, hot-wiring the lock and turning off the alarm in a few seconds. Ryan watched him silently from the passenger seat.

His leg was bleeding and the fire had burnt away part of his pants, showing of a bright red burn.

Jeremy winced and looked away. Another scar between the two of them, it shot through his head.

He turned on the car engine and started driving.

“Hospital?” he asked, not looking at Ryan.

“It’s not that bad,” Ryan said. “It can wait.”  
  
Jeremy wouldn’t though. They were in Shanghai, not in the middle of the Australian outback. The Agency had doctors available here who could be paid to keep silent.

“Thanks Jeremy,” Ryan said. Jeremy said nothing just kept driving. He tried not to think about it. About those moments when Ryan had just lied there, crumbled on the ground, bleeding out or maybe already dead.

It was part of the job. You killed people, they killed other people. Sometimes you knew those people they killed. He had gotten good at not caring over the years.

He cared now. Probably too much. Very likely too much.

But Ryan… Ryan had a favorite knife and Ryan was good at using it and good at shooting and good at stealing things from unsuspecting idiots.

And Ryan preferred blueberry muffins over any other type and he actually had a little list with stupid puns that had managed to make Jeremy burst out in loud laughter. Ryan fell asleep on his couch when they were playing video games, as if he trusted Jeremy not to suddenly sell him out and kill him right there.

Cause he did trust Jeremy. And Jeremy couldn’t lose him.

There was something there, something big and nameless that had been growing over the months of them knowing each other.

It had been hiding until the shot, until Ryan had crumbled and Jeremy had been ready to kill the entire world just to keep Ryan save.

Oh, Jeremy thought, feeling a bit light-headed.

Oh.

He allowed himself one look at Ryan who had closed his eyes and was trying to keep his breath even.

He figured that the middle of Shanghai, one of them bleeding and burnt and a flash drive worth twenty-five million Yuan in their possession, was as good a place as any other to realize that you were in love with your partner.   
  
They managed to contact Miller, their supervisor, who found them a doctor, got Ryan patched up enough for it to not be suspicious and then they went back home.

Life kept going. Ryan was out for a few months and Jeremy did missions with a few other people. He didn’t bother remembering their names.

When he was back, he’d go to Ryan’s place, sit on his couch and complain as they played video games together.

Ryan would laugh and tease him about it and they’d order pizza and just spend time together.  
  
It was fun. It was fine.

They were friends. Good friends. But still, nothing … nothing else, Jeremy thought.  
  
It was enough. It had to be enough. Ryan returned to active missions and life kept going.

It was their third or their fourth mission after Ryan had returned.  
  
They were on the way to somewhere. They hadn’t been told where exactly that somewhere was which had happened before. Jeremy could figure out that they were in Missouri, but that was about it.

Miller had come with them and Ryan had thrown him a look when they had all gotten into a car and had started driving.  
  
Jeremy agreed silently.  
  
It was unusual that they got missions with somebody in the field giving them instructions. The Agency usually took more of a “Let them off their leashes and see what happens” approach.

It would probably help if he knew what exactly the mission was supposed to be.

Miller was had been tight-lipped, even so more than usual and spent her time on her laptop, only briefly interrupting her typing to give one-worded directions. Jeremy had felt too awkward with her close by to joke around with Ryan like he’d usually do.

It had been a rather silent drive.

Something had been nagging at the back of Jeremy’s head. The entire situation felt vaguely familiar though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

It finally came back to him when Miller curtly told him to take a right turn and drive down a forest road.

“That’s where the militia was. The one with the rocket launchers” he said, more to Ryan than actually asking Miller.

“Yes,” she just said.

Jeremy waited for a moment but there was no more information forthcoming. He threw Ryan a questioning look and the other man just shrugged slightly.

Jeremy drove towards the compound, expecting Miller to tell him to stop any minute now. She didn’t though and Jeremy drove right into the compound, the wooden cabins looking even more rundown than before.

“Agent Haywood,” Miller said. “Check if we are alone. Agent Dooley, with me.”  
  
Without waiting to see if her orders were being followed, Miller left the car.

Jeremy and Ryan exchanged another look before Jeremy got out of the car.

“Kinda weird being back here,” Jeremy said as they got their equipment out the trunk.

Something else occurred to him and he grinned.

“Hey, Haywood.” Ryan looked up, surprised at the address. It had been Ryan for so long now.

“Stay out of my way,” Jeremy said, trying his best to mimic Ryan’s cold voice.

He had never expected that he’d actually grow to like the man after their first mission. Especially not as much as he now did.

Ryan laughed as he got out his knives.

“Well, I rather you don’t actually. Need somebody to watch my back after all.”

Jeremy smiled.

“You got it, bud,” he said. It was a bit more honest than they usually were but Jeremy put it down to the place.

“Agent Dooley,” came a voice from one of the cabins and Jeremy snapped to attention.

“Make sure to not pick up any rocket launchers this time,” Jeremy told Ryan and then he walked over to Miller.

She led the way inside the cabin and Jeremy followed, growing more and more confused with every passing moment.

The cabin was empty. It had been cleaned out along with the militia and their weapons. Why were they here? What were they doing?

Miller suddenly stopped and Jeremy almost ran into her. There was something lying on the floor in front of them. Miller took out her phone, typing something.

“Get that,” she said, not looking at Jeremy. With a frown Jeremy walked over, picking it up.

It was a flash drive. Jeremy stared at it confused, making to turn around to ask Miller if they really had gotten all this way for this. And then something touched his arm and a sharp pain ran through him as something pierced his skin, followed by a sudden shock.

He screamed, his knees buckling. Miller was standing above him, holding her phone.

There was something black on his arm, a smack box like thing, and he reached for it with shaking fingers. Miller pressed something on her phone and another electric shock ran through him.

He dropped his hand, his body shaking violently.

“What-” he managed to choke out.

“This would have been easier if you two could have just died in Berlin as planned,” Miller interrupted him. “Or in Shanghai at the very least. I paid that bodyguard a small fortune and he gets himself killed instead of taking you down.”

Jeremy felt dizzy, his head swimming and his vision blurred.

“It took us some time to re-organize after you taken out our guy in Germany,” Miller continued, a hint of anger in her voice. It was the first time Jeremy had ever heard any kind of emotion from her. “Too much time. And I had to get you two. Make amends and all that.”  
  
The words seemed to be coming from somewhere else, somewhere far away from Jeremy but once they had reached him, he could feel something cold running through him.

“Why?” he managed to gasp out.

Miller just calmly looked at him.

“Because they are paying more,” she said.  
  
He could see his gun, lying next to him. If she kept talking, he could maybe reach it, if he was quick enough.

Slowly Jeremy moved his hand towards his gun. Just a bit more, a few inches left…

Another electric shock ran through him and he screamed loudly.  
  
“I’d rather you not do this, Agent Dooley,” Miller said, picking up his gun.

“They wanted you both alive, but you know what? I think they’ll also be okay with just one of you. I hope it will be of some comfort that out of the two of you, Agent Haywood will soon wish he was dead too.”  
  
A cold feeling of panic rushed through Jeremy at the mention of Ryan. Visions danced in his mind, Ryan bleeding, screaming, in pain.

Jeremy not there to save him.  
  
It was enough for him to push through the pain, through the dizziness. With a loud scream he forced himself up, ignored his shaking body and jumped towards Miller.

She let out a startled yelp and tried to step back. Jeremy grabbed the gun, tried to pull it away from her.

He couldn’t let her get to Ryan. The thought kept repeating itself over and over inside his head. He couldn’t.

With an angry snarl Miller punched him in the throat and Jeremy gasped for air, forcing himself to still hold on to the gun.

Then a shot rang out.

For a moment there was nothing. Then pain started spreading through Jeremy’s body, more pain than he had ever experienced. He looked down, saw a wet spot spreading on his stomach and through his tear-filled eyes he could see the red.  
  
Blood, he thought dimly. His blood.  
  
His hands, still grasping the gun sank away and then his knee buckled and he fell down. He landed on his arm, the black thing hitting the floor and another electric shock ran through him.

It didn’t stop this time though. The shocks kept coming, his body shaking violently and Jeremy squirmed around on the floor, unable even to scream through the pain.

Miller was standing above him, watching the scene with a detached expression.  
  
He’d die here, it suddenly occurred to him. He’d die in the middle of Missouri, being electrocuted or bleeding out on the floor in some second-rate militia compound.

He’d die and he’d never be able to tell Ryan.

Of all the things, that one suddenly seemed the worst.

The shocks kept coming and Miller must have gotten bored with it since she raised his gun again. Jeremy almost welcomed it. No more pain, he thought. His head was aching, every shock running through him further aggravating the bullet wound and the pain must have made him hallucinate because he suddenly thought he saw Ryan standing there.

A shot rang through the cabin and Jeremy closed his eyes, accepting the end.

The pain didn’t stop though. It also didn’t get any worse.

There was a hand cradling his face and somebody was yelling. With all the effort he had left, Jeremy managed to force his eyes open.

Ryan was kneeling next to him, staring at him with such open fear and worry something inside Jeremy’s chest twisted.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” Ryan said.

Jeremy tried to say something, tried to ask Ryan to make the electric shocks stop but he couldn’t get a word out.

Ryan somehow still understood or must have noticed the black box attached to his arm. He ripped it out and it was probably only the bullet hole in his side that made it seem less painful than it actually was. There were puncture marks on his arms, deep and bright red.

Another scar Ryan got him, Jeremy thought and then laughed.

It was a painful gasping noise and he stopped almost immediately.  
  
Ryan’s expression didn’t change, he just looked even more scared. He was holding his hand, Jeremy noticed absent-mindedly. Holding it so tight he might accidentally break it.  
  
“We’ll get you out of here, can you … can you stand?” Ryan sounded panicked which was really weird, Jeremy thought, cause Ryan never panicked. He was trying to pull Jeremy up and Jeremy winced as more pain shot through him. 

“Ryan.” He managed to reach up with his other hand, touching Ryan’s cheek. The man stilled.

“Gotta … gotta tell you something,” Jeremy mumbled.

“It can wait until we’re back home.”  
  
“D-don’t think so.”

Speaking was hard. So hard.

He didn’t want to speak. He just wanted to stroke Ryan’s cheek and keep staring into his eyes.

But he doubted he’d have time for that. He doubted Ryan had time. There was a sound in the distance, something that sounded like a helicopter coming closer.

This sucked.

“Sucks,” he mumbled.

Ryan let out a laugh, desperate and wobbly.

“Jeremy-,“ he began again.

“I love you, Ryan,” Jeremy interrupted him. It felt good to finally say it.

“Really love you,” he mumbled. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. The world and Ryan turned dark.

“Should go now,” he added. The distant sound was growing louder.

He hoped Ryan would leave. He really hoped so. The last thing he noticed was Ryan letting go of his hand.

At least there would be no more pain, he figured.

There were snapshots then of different things. Shots and screams and then he was being carried somewhere and more pain, around his wrist this time.

The sound of the helicopter, louder and closer, and even more pain every time he was roughly moved around.  
  
He had imagined dying to be more peacefully.

When he finally managed to wake up for more than a few seconds, there was no pain and whiteness.

For one moment he thought that he was dead and had somehow fooled whoever was guarding the gates to heaven.

Then the usual hospital smell made itself noticeable and he realized that he was lying in a bed.

Then he saw Ryan sitting next to him.

The man looked awful. His shirt was torn and bloody, there were dark rings under his eyes and his rolled-ups sleeves showed a truly impressive amount of fresh bruises.

“Ryan?” Jeremy croaked. His throat felt like he had swallowed shards of glass, barely audible.

Ryan woke with a start, his eyes going wide when he saw Jeremy.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“What happened?” Jeremy asked confused. They were in Missouri at the compound, he remembered that part. They might still be in Missouri but they sure weren’t at the compound anymore.

He remembered what Miller said and tensed in fear.

“Did they come to get us?” he asked, trying to keep his voice down. Where they prisoners? The room looked too nice for that but one could never know.

A smile twitched across Ryan’s face, dark and grim.

“They tried. Came in with a helicopter. We left with it. They stayed.” There was no need to ask for the details of how exactly Ryan had gotten the helicopter. Jeremy could imagine it all too well.

“Agency got you a hospital room,” Ryan continued. “They’ll pick us up once you are better.”  
  
Jeremy noted the use of us and felt a sense of relief that Ryan wouldn’t leave him here alone.

“Miller?” he asked again.

Ryan’s face darkened.

“Shot her. The Agency is still trying to clean up that mess.”  
  
“She is the one who told the guy in Berlin about us. That arms dealer,” Jeremy suddenly remembered. “And she paid that bodyguard in Shanghai to take us out.”  
  
If possible Ryan’s face darkened even more.

“Fucking hell, that’s why he was expecting us,” he mumbled. “It seems they were using the compound as a drop off point. I found fresh car tracks. That’s why I came back to you. If I hadn’t she might have…”  
  
His voice trailed off and then he suddenly reached for Jeremy’s hand, holding it tightly.

“Hey,” Jeremy said gently. “Hey, I’m fine.”

“You could have been not fine,” Ryan mumbled, not looking at him. Not really knowing what else to do Jeremy reached out, softly touching his arm.

There was a scar there, an older one. The crocodile one, Jeremy thought. Peru, the boat and the first time Ryan had told him his name.

One of the many scars they had left on each other. And somehow they were still here. Alive, both of them.

“Did you mean it?” Ryan then asked quietly.

Jeremy’s heart missed a beat.

“Mean what,” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He knew exactly what Ryan was asking.

Ryan let out a tired-sounding sigh, slipping his hand out of Jeremy’s. Jeremy missed the contact the moment it was gone.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You were bleeding out and I … I must have misheard.”  
  
It was a polite offer of a way out. Jeremy could take it. They could go on and they’d both pretend it had never happened. They were good at pretending. It came with the job, the same way the scars did.

Jeremy was tired of pretending.

“It wasn’t because I was bleeding out,” he said hoarsely. “I meant it, Ryan. I lo- I like you. A lot.”

There was a moment where Ryan didn’t react and Jeremy wanted to take it all back, wanted to return to the compound in Missouri and just die there.

Then Ryan leant down and kissed him, warm and soft and perfect. He should have expected Ryan to act instead of simply answer, Jeremy thought, returning the kiss. His heart was beating faster and he smiled into the kiss, unable to keep the happiness off his face. He tried to pull Ryan closer and never let him go but there were needles in his arm and he winced when Ryan’ leant too heavy on his side.

Ryan moved away quickly.

“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound sorry. Jeremy wasn’t either.

Ryan smiled at him.

“Not bad, Dooley,” he said, taking his hand again and holding it tightly.  
  
It was nice. Jeremy could get used to it. Ryan’s other hand came up to rest lightly on the bandages hiding what would likely turn into his newest scar.

There were many of them. There would likely be many more. But right now, in this moment there was nothing but them.

Jeremy smiled.  
  
“You’re not too bad yourself either, Haywood,” he said.


End file.
